


like a melody in my head

by salamandersaladman



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Songfic, Swearing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11231745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandersaladman/pseuds/salamandersaladman
Summary: Songfic!!Basically every chapter is a oneshot, based on a different song. This was inspired by@stonerjohnlaurens'modern au lams playlist





	1. Suffer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stonerjohnlaurens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerjohnlaurens/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [Suffer](https://youtu.be/M_qDPH-fm10) by Charlie Puth, there's a lyric video for ya!

_I'm just a sucker_  
_For a cold hearted lover_

 _From: tomcat_  
_3:43am_  
_-U up?_

Of course John was awake. Alex had told him he would call tonight, so like a little lovesick idiot John had taken a shower and brushed his teeth, cleaned the apartment and made sure the lube was right in the nightstand-all that jazz-and was clean and ready to go by nine.

Not a word.

Around eleven John had tried to talk himself into calling Alexander. _C'mon John, grow a fucking spine. He said he would call and he hasn't, so it's not crazy of you to check in on him._

 _Yeah but he said **tonight**. It's still early, you know how busy he gets. It's not like he owes you anything, you aren't his boyfriend_.

So John hadn't called.

But he hadn't been able to sleep either. He just forced himself to leave his phone face down on the nightstand, volume all the way up, and watched Netflix in bed without getting under the covers. He’d made his bed up so pretty, after all.

So when the text rolled in John was, in fact, up. And he scrambled to grab his phone so fast it fell to the ground.

He was tempted not to respond, just to teach Alex some manners. Except that John still wanted him to come over. So he went the passive aggressive route, forcing himself to wait a full and exact ten minutes before replying.

_To: tomcat_  
_3:53am  
-Nope_

Alex’s response was immediate. Evidently, now that he had decided he wanted John, he knew proper texting etiquette.

_From: tomcat_  
_3:53am  
-you're pouting aren't you_

_From: tomcat_  
_3:55am  
-Attachment: 1 Image_

John unlocked his phone, planning to leave Alex on read for a bit, and but back a groan of frustration at the picture. _That fucker fights dirty._

It was a rather crude crotch shot, Alex hard in his jeans, and his hand was obviously rubbing himself mid shot. The implication was clear: Alex would be getting off tonight with or without John. This time, John wasted no time replying.

_To: tomcat_  
_3:56am  
-get over here then_

He wanted to ask where Alex had been all this time. Out at the club? Filling out paperwork for his office? With somebody else? Or maybe he had simply been at home, biding his time, experimenting with how much he could torture John, how long he could make the boy wait on him, and how fast John would take the bait.

But whatever the case, it wasn't John's place to ask. He knew from past experience that such questions ran the risk of scaring his lover off for the night, maybe even a few weeks, Alex doubtlessly finding another toy to occupy his evenings. John hated being teased like this, but at the end of the day he still just wanted Alex, _craved_ him. So he quietly suffered, his shame always thick in the morning, but some things were worth it.

And at almost four thirty in the morning, when Alex showed up on his doorstep, he didn't even make him knock twice.


	2. Forrest Gump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [Forrest Gump](https://youtu.be/mNgkxa61eJQ) by Frank Ocean, there's a lyric video for ya!

 

_You run my mind, boy_

_Running on my mind boy_

 

Alexander’s favorite class at Yorktown high, by far, was algebra. Any math class, really, but since Advanced Algebra was the course he was taking this year, it was his favorite.

 

Math just made sense. You plugged numbers into an exact equation, and always got the right answer. No wiggle room, no interpretation. You either were correct, or you were not, and he found that beautiful. The logic of it relaxed him, and he found the formulas on paper often reflected the patterns by which his mind operated. He saw the world in organized little numbers and percentages. _I should go into accounting or something. Nobody wants to be an accountant ‘cause it's boring as hell, but they make good money. I'm good with money._

 

On the other hand, Alex absolutely despised chemistry.

 

In fact, he despised chemistry so much, that he was just sitting in the back of the classroom, daydreaming about his fictional accountant job after fast tracking his way through college. _Because Columbia doesn't require fucking Chemistry._

 

It was at _least_ interesting enough when they did labs, put little chemicals in flasks and measured formulas. Stuff with numbers and outcomes, Alex’s forte. But today Mr. Burr was droning on and on about the periodic table, which they had to _memorize_ , and Alex could feel himself literally falling asleep. _Maybe if I brush my hair into my face so he can't see me, and rest my chin in my hand, I can just take a quick nap and the bell will wake me up._

 

He was too busy scheming to see the pencil eraser coming until it gently poked his arm, immediately eliciting a little grin from Alex that he tried to smother.

 

Chemistry had….certain aspects that made it worthwhile.

 

“What is it today?” He whispered, literally beaming at his lab partner, and the boy just tilted his head down towards the sticky note he had somehow slid in front of Alex without the boy noticing.

 

It was a little doodle of a penguin with a bowtie, standing next to a little snail with a top hat. It was fucking adorable.

 

The first day of chemistry the class had groaned to learn that it was assigned seating, setting the tone for the entire year. If a teacher let you chose your own seats, he/she would treat you like adults and probably be the type to meet with you after class about ways to improve your grade. If it was assigned seating, you were sent home with homework on the first day of school.

 

The room was designed with scattered lab tables, each slab of cool stone with a little built in sink holding two students each-your partner for the entire year. Alex didn't see any familiar faces, most of his friends were either theater kids or mathletes, so he accepted this with indifferent resignation. He decided, claiming his spot as the inter seat near the sink and counter, that he would just do the majority of the work so his grade was in his own hands. He wasn't here to make friends, he was here to pass, and when he caught a glimpse of the letterman jacket that slid beside him, he let out a little huff. If he’d had any vague hopes of a competent lab partner, they were immediately dashed. _A jock all year. Great. Maybe he’ll be one of the quiet ones instead of the douchey ones._ To Alex, jocks came in two exciting flavors: stupid and introverted, or stupid and loud. Judgemental, he knew, but experience had not yet taught him otherwise.

 

It was maybe the third day when Mr. Burr had dimmed the lights to play an informative video, ruining the excitement of a “movie” by requiring each table to turn in a single page of notes between them.

 

“I'll do it.” Alex had offered immediately, keeping the paper between them so the boy-John or Josh, he thought he name might be-could read what he wrote on the off chance that he cared. Alex would at least be polite.

 

But, to his surprise, as he scribbled away furiously, his notes perhaps more detailed than required, the jock gently tilted the paper towards him at an angle and started to doodle in the upper right corner. Alex blinked, looking at the boy’s face, but he hadn't even glanced at Alex. He had his tongue between his teeth, concentrating on the little sketch, and Alex had been surprised to find himself blushing. _Oh no. You aren't doing this. You aren't finding him hot just because he's in close proximity and has a decent jawline._

 

He went back to taking notes, his pace slightly slower now. Alex didn't want to reach the end of the lined piece of paper and have to flip it over to continue, interrupting what his lab partner seemed very focused on.

 

_Okay, a damn fantastic jawline._

 

Alex had returned his gaze to the screen, deciding the notes were sufficient, when the boy nudged him and slid the paper towards Alex. He had glanced down at him and almost snorted with laughter, quickly covering his mouth.

 

It was an extremely realistic drawing of Burr, forehead with a reflective gleam on it, looking numbly off into the distance. He was holding a mug that proclaimed “WORLD’S OKAYEST TEACHER”, Alex a perfect mixture of impressed and amused at how the letter curved around the sketch of the mug. It captured him perfectly, as the man truly seemed to hate his job.

 

“You really nailed that look of grim acceptance in his eyes.” Alex whispered, immediately shushed by Burr, and the boy had flashed him a crooked grin, cheeks crinkling in an unfairly adorable way.

 

And every day since, for almost a month and a half now, John Laurens would draw something funny or clever for Alex, and Alex would lie to himself and pretend that he didn't have a crush on a jock that he had learned was the honest to god quarterback. If movies about high school had taught him anything, Alex knew that John should be the most popular kid in school. Then again, who said he wasn't? Alex only saw him in chem, and spent every lunch and break in the air conditioned theater building. Maybe during their lunch period John walked down the hallways in slow motion with alternative rock playing as he finger gunned random students who fawned over his every waking moment. He certainly did when Alex pictured him.

 

And god, did he picture him.

 

‘What are their names?’ Alex wrote on the little yellow square, learning fast that Burr broke up any talkative lab groups. _He probably actively discourages friendships forming._

 

John took the note and scribbled a response, his handwriting now as familiar to Alex as his own. It was slanted slightly, the lines thin and elegant, whereas Alex tended to write dark, pressing his pencil hard against the paper as if trapping the thoughts to the page.

 

‘It's us. But in dapper, animal form.’ Alex couldn't resist a little chuckle, glancing at John which proved to be a mistake, as the boy winked.

 

‘Dibs on being the penguin.’ He slid the note back and John intercepted it so fast that their fingers touched ever so slightly, both of them jerking their hands away fast.

 

Yorktown High might pat itself on the back for its strict no bullying policy, but kids could manage cruelty behind closed doors just as much as out in the open. And if being a loser was a crime in high school, being a _gay loser_ called for capital punishment. It was a small southern town, after all.

 

‘Fool. I am the art god, I chose who is who.’ Alex rolled his eyes, biting back a giddy grin.

 

‘Excuse me your majesty. How dare a lowly mortal like me question you.’ John had to flip the post it over to make more room.

 

‘There there. We can't all be perfect like me.’

 

Alex laughed and thankfully the bell ringing saved him from a heated glare from Burr, just wrapping up his lecture. The classroom came alive with chatter as students lazily shoved notebooks into their bags, finally free to talk now that they had four whole minutes to get to their next class.

 

“Later John.” Alex said, stealing the note as he packed up his things to store with the countless others, but John didn't toss him his usual hasty goodbye and dash off to his class all the way on the other side of campus.

 

“Alex,” He started slowly, eyes flashing playfully. “We’re friends, yeah?”

 

“An art god, friends with me?” Alex teased, slipping his hefty backpack onto his shoulders and gripping the straps as he looked up at John, the two boys moving together towards the door. “How did I get so lucky?”

 

“If we’re friends,” John’s smirk was going to be the death of Alex. They stepped into the sunlight as he spoke, John walking backwards in front of Alex to face him as he spoke, managing somehow to make the awkward stance seem suave and cool. “Then why haven't you come to any of my games?”

 

Alex felt the air grow thick around him and he swallowed, unsure how to answer that, and every excuse flashed across his mind at once. _Football scares me. I have no interest. Your teammates would notice I'm in love with you and pound me to a pulp. Friday nights I get a lot of studying done. I thought we were class acquaintances not ‘come watch me throw a ball around’ level friends. I know nothing about the game. You'll be running around in tight red pants. I would rather be dead than feign an interest in sports. I don't have a car for away games. Tickets cost money and I'm broke. Not sure where the football field is._

 

“Uh,” Alex blinked at him, deciding that John was, in fact, serious. “I didn't know the season had started.” It wasn't a lie.

 

John laughed and nudged his arm, Alex ducking his head shyly, and the jock turned to start walking the other direction. Probably running, if he didn't want to be late for his art class.

 

“There's a game tonight at 7, Hamilton. I'll see you there.” He winked, shoving his hands into his pockets, before bolting off across the baseball diamond towards the small little arts building.

 

Alex stopped in his tracks, forgetting his beloved algebra momentarily, to stare after him. _Fuck, he didn't give me a chance to make an excuse._

 

Certainly John was just being polite and didn't _actually_ _care_ whether or not Alex went to some football game. _It's not like he’ll look for you in the crowd or anything_.

 

But the lack of appeal of wasting his Friday night seemed to disappear when he considered that John Laurens has just personally asked him to come to his game. Like Alex was his girlfriend or something.

 

“I guess I would've just been up reading anyway.” He mumbled persuasively to himself, kicking along a discarded bottle cap with him as he walked, biting back a smile.

 

Yeah, maybe football wasn't so bad.

 

* * *

 

Alex was bundled from head to toe, wearing a thick knitted beanie, a long sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a scarf, pants, boots, and mittens, and the mathlete was still somehow shivering.

 

 _Been here four years and I'm still not used to South Carolina weather._ Alex preferred it sunny and soft, a tropical tint to the air and the only concern being having enough sunblock, not getting ass frostbite from the metal benches. _Maybe I'll get my degree in SoCal. UCSB is supposed to be right along the beach._

 

The crowd jumped up and cheered, for the thousandth time that night, but Alex had long ago given up joining them. He had googled how long high school football games lasted and managed to deduce that they were in the fourth quarter, and that John’s team was winning. Alex wanted to obviously believe that was because of the efforts of John, but he genuinely didn't know enough about the game to tell.

 

He was a little proud and a little creeped out that he had managed to identify John by his body alone-bright red and white jersey number 44-and had watched him and him alone the whole evening. John was lithe, how had Alex not noticed? And he was fast, faster than you would expect. And the way he just barreled fiercely and fearlessly into the opposing team, all in green, made Alex swallow thickly.

 

_Nice Alex. Seventeen year old virgin gets vaguely hot and bothered watching football. This is literally the weird nightmare heterosexuals have about us._

 

But John didn't need to know about Alex’s little crush. And let's face it, it was a crush. The frosty night air was biting Alex’s nose and cheeks with the savageness of some wild animal, and it was 9:45pm on a Friday. Ideally, Alex would be in his little shoe box room, curled up with a cup or tea and maybe some spaghetti-os if he remembered to eat, catching up on the news or listening to one of his podcast. Friday nights he allowed himself some semblance of a day off, and instead he was at number three on the list of top places he had no interest in being, mooning over the way John’s muscles moved when he ran across the field.

 

The crowd cheered again, jumping to their feet in a deafening roar, and the players in red and white joined them, tearing helmets away. Alex deduced that they had won, sighing in relief, and good naturedly jumped to his feet as well, clapping his hands. _Oh fuck, what now? Do I go say hi? Or do I just say “good game” in class Monday?_

 

Several students from the crowd swarmed the football field, rushing to congratulation their boyfriends/buddies and take pictures for their instagrams. Alex decided to follow suit and, shrinking his face further down into his scarf, he climbed down the bleachers and into the grassy field. At eye level, it was much harder to find John in the crowd, and Alex nearly gave up when, a couple yards away, he finally made eye contact with his lab partner. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the way John’s face lit up, and the boy apologized to whoever he was talking too, blocked from view, and jogged over to Alex.

 

“Alexander!” Alex squeaked with surprise when he was pulled into a crushing, sweaty hug, in which John slightly lifted him from the ground before releasing Alex and grinning at him. “Sorry. That adrenaline, ya know?” Alex nodded wordlessly, entranced by the way John’s eyes were literally sparkling, the quarterback bouncing from foot to foot. _He looks like he could play a whole ‘nother game._

 

“G-great game by the way.” Alex had to tug his scarf down to speak, looking up at John to talk. Seated at the lab table, they were the same height. Having to tilt his head to meet John’s gaze was...something. “It was my first.”

 

“Wow, really?” John's eyes widened, smile never faltering. “I'm so glad _that_ was your first game. Shit, it was a close one. But we really nailed them.”

 

“Totally.” Alex agreed, nodding hard as if he had a clue what he was agreeing to. John was looking at him like he was a winning lottery ticket, and Alex found thinking and speaking hard under those eyes.

 

Someone called John’s name across the field, a pretty cheerleader, and John waved before glancing apologetically at Alex. He suddenly stepped a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, and Alex really had to look up now, almost chest to chest with him.

 

“Listen,” John said softly, studying Alex’s face. “There's a party after this at Mulligan’s. On June and Melbourne, ya know by the big park?” Alex nodded numbly, not sure what he was agreeing to. But the intensity in the deep brown eyes would make him agree to almost anything. “Come by, yeah?” John patted his arm, turning to leave, and Alex finally cleared his throat.

 

“I don't….I dunno John.” He shrugged. “I won't know anybody there.”

 

“You'll know me.” John said simply, throwing Alex a signature wink, before jogging off in the direction of the blonde who was probably his girlfriend. _Why does he want to be my friend? Is this some kind of Cruel Intentions scenario except instead of trying to seduce the uncool kid, you try and befriend him? Am I his pity project?_

 

Whatever the case, Alex started walking home, as he would certainly need to change.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex had wondered anxiously, after rushing home and changing into a nice-ish button up and some skinny jeans, if he should've asked John how he would know which house it was. As he slowly walked in and out of the flickering street lamps’ glow along Melbourne, such a fear was quickly dispelled.

 

One huge, massive, _rich_ house at the end of the street was alive while the others were black and still. Lights were on in every window, music was thumping, and the shrill shrieks of teenage girls and drunken laughter echoed down the empty road long before Alex reached the front door.

 

He almost expected somebody to stop him. _Hey,_ they might say, all eyes suddenly on Alex, standing alone in the doorway. _You don't belong here._ And it wouldn't be cruel or vindictive, it would be absolutely true.

 

But nobody stopped or even glanced at Alex as he slid into the crowded living room, a couple making out aggressively on the couch (thankfully not John, although it _did_ look like that blonde from earlier) and made his way into the kitchen, looking around for John, feeling a little small and a lot lost.

 

“Beer hombre?” Some douchey voice asked, pronouncing the H, and Alex bit back a laugh at the very drunk kid before him, wearing his football jersey, offering Alex a beer.

 

“Uh, thanks.” He took it politely, not intending to drink, and glanced around. “Have you seen John anywhere?”

 

“Laurens?” The guy asked loudly and Alex flinched, embarrassed, but no one was paying attention to them. “Prolly out back. Maybe the jacuzzi.” He sloppily tilted his head towards the back door and Alex thanked him, scratching at the label on his beer before stepping out into the expansive backyard.

 

It was more intimate back here, the pool and jacuzzi the only source of light, and fewer people were mingling about, those that were out here talking in hushed voices, no music to compete with.

 

“Alex!” Alex had missed him completely, hidden under the shadows of a tree, but John stepped into the light and Alex smiled weakly and approached him.

 

John looked like a fucking dream. His hair was down, a sight Alex had never seen before, and his eyes were alive and slightly glazed over from liquor, if the red solo cup in his hand was any indication. He had a stub of a cigarette between his lips, which he dropped to the ground and stepped on without breaking eye contact with Alex. _Stop finding that hot. Littering isn't hot. Lung cancer isn't hot._

 

“I didn't know you smoked.” Alex said by way of greeting, tone teasing, and John smirked at him.

 

“And I didn't know you drank.” He nodded to the beer in Alex’s hand, and the boy rushed to explain himself.

 

“Oh I don't! Some guy just gave this to me and-”

 

“Hey,” John thankfully shut down his nervous rambling before it could really gain momentum, tilting his head back towards the couple of boys milling around the tree, away from the minimal lights. “Come meet my friends.”

 

Alex nodded and followed John back to the shadows, slightly terrified that these boys would, as he had predicted someone would the second he walked through the door, know he shouldn't be here.

 

“Laf, Herc. This is Alex.”

 

“The lab partner!” The taller of the two-Laf-exclaimed, and Alex was grateful for the darkness, quickly blushing bright red.

 

“So you're the one who almost caught his eyebrows on fire?” The other-Herc-asked in a rumbling voice, and Alex looked at John traitorously, who only laughed.

 

“What happens in chemistry should stay in chemistry.” He said with mock betrayal, and he was surprised by how all three laughed. Then again, the other two were clearly drunk, so he didn't have a tough audience.

 

 _I want John's friends to like me._ He realized and god, was that an embarrassing fact to face. Apparently his crush went deeper than he had realized. _You're here, aren't you Alex?_ To John’s credit though, Alex had expected him to simply say hello and leave Alex to his own devices. Instead, Alex had been invited into this little circle. The night air was cold but he hardly felt it, warm standing beside John as he relayed, apparently not for the first time, the incident where Alex had causee a very small reaction/explosion when he mixed two chemicals wrong. It was hardly his fault-John had been wearing a muscle shirt that day.

 

Alex hadn't noticed the time slipping away until the quiet caught his attention, and it was now only the four of them in the backyard. An hour and a half had pleasantly vanished without him noticing, and Alex didn't mind at all.

 

“We’re gonna go hunt down Lee now.” Laf, who Alex had found quite endearing, said with a tug on Herc’s arm, and Alex must have been imagining the knowing in his smirk. “He has the stuff I want. We’ll catch up with you two later. A pleasure Alex.”

 

“Later Alex.” Herc waved and the two went back inside without protest, no sounds now but John and Alex’s breathing.

 

Alex was standing beside John, alone in the dark, and he suddenly felt scared to look at him. Scared he might see disappointment at being left alone with Alex, and scared of the way his own heart was pounding. He knew himself well enough to be reasonably afraid he would do something stupid.

 

“Wanna swim?” John asked suddenly and, fears forgot, Alex’s head snapped up to look at him.

 

“What??” John just smirked down at him, nodding his head towards the vacant, steaming jacuzzi.

 

“Swim. You just seem cold.” Alex gaped at him. He was, now that John mentioned it, as freezing as ever, but not enough to just throw caution to the wind.

 

“I um, I don't have a bathing suit.” He mumbled and shit, he really should have thought of a better excuse.

 

John tugged off his shirt and Alex quickly averted his eyes, cheeks heating up as he heard the fabric fall to the floor, followed by the zipper on John’s jeans and another little thud.

 

“You have boxers, don't you? C’mon.” He watched John climb into the jacuzzi, heart literally skipping a beat at how defined the boy’s body was, and he self consciously drew his arms tighter around himself.

 

_C’mon Alex. He's not gay he's not gonna check you out and judge your lack of muscle. You can't chicken out now._

 

Sighing with extreme embarrassment and resignation, Alex started unbuttoning his shirt and John cheered.

 

“I knew you had it in you.” The jock teased as Alex, shivering in his boxers alone, climbed into the blissfully warm water.

 

He let out a little sigh of bliss, savoring the warmth and sinking down to his neck, only his head above water, and John chuckled.

 

“You aren't from here, are you?”

 

“Is it obvious?” Alex asked with a crooked grin, holding the gaze of the boy who sat directly across from him, and John’s smile was warmer than the water.

 

“Nah. Just cause you were wearing about a hundred layers at the game.” He teased and Alex blushed.

 

“I lived in the Caribbean up until middle school. Coldest day there and I’d still be in shorts comfortably.” John tilted his head, studying him.

 

“Why’d your family leave?” Alex looked down, running his fingers through the bubbles, watching the water ripple.

 

“Uh, long story short, my mom died so I came out here to live with my cousin but then he died too, well shot himself actually, and now I'm in foster care.” He blurted this out all in one breath and John’s eyes went wide.

 

“Well shit.” He whispered and Alex started laughing, John looking at him in surprise before joining in.

 

“God, sorry to throw all that on you. I'm not even drunk I don't have an excuse.”

 

“Don't be sorry.” John shook his head, resting both his elbows on the side of the hot tub and giving Alex a clear and torturous view of his upper body. “I'm sorry I asked.”

 

“Nah, I don't mind. As long as you don't treat me weird now.” Alex teased and John shook his head sincerely.

 

“Never.” He held Alex’s gaze longer than should have been legal. “I feel like I should tell you my sob story now. Level the playing field.”

 

“Hit me.” Alex replied immediately, grinning, and John smirked before cracking his neck and sighing.

 

“It's really just your classic: dad finds out son is gay and refuses to ever speak to him again ever. Luckily my step mom is an angel or I might-”

 

“You're gay?” Alex blurted and then caught himself, cheeks heating up. “Sorry sorry. Go on.”

 

“Nah, you're fine.” John looked almost shy, ducking his head slightly. “If people ask I'm not afraid to tell them, ya know? But I don't go around advertising it.”

 

“I won't tell.” Alex promised sincerely and John seemed to visibly relax, sinking a little deeper into the pool.

 

“Thanks man. I figured you wouldn't because like….” A surprised little laugh escaped Alex.

 

“Oh my god. You thought I was gay too?” The air around Alex felt thick. _All this time he's been gay and he thought you were gay….holy shit._

 

“You aren't?” John's eyes went wide and Alex rushed to correct himself.

 

“I mean, I'm bi. But it's just funny that you could tell.” He said fast and John’s smirk returned, what Alex must have imagined as panic in his eyes fading.

 

“Oh.” John said, looking down at the water. “Good.”

 

“Good?” Alex asked, raising his eyebrows, and John looked back up at him, smirking a little but his cheeks were bright pink.

 

Alex watched John glance towards the door, as if making sure they were truly alone, before the boy cut through the water and was suddenly hovering over Alex, a hand on either side of the smaller boy’s head, gripping the wall of the jacuzzi.

 

“Good.” John repeated, and Alex just about fainted.

 

John was so close that Alex watched the water droplets roll down his chest, his wet and curly hair framing his face, and all he could do was gulp.

 

“Yeah.” He agreed, not sure what he was agreeing to, and his eyes dropped momentarily to John’s lips before quickly meeting his gaze once again. The jock’s smirk told him that John had definitely noticed, and Alex internally kicked himself.

 

“So,” Alex struggled to fill the silence, unable to bear the way John was looking at him and their close proximity. “Monday you should draw me something about football. Considering I didn't really get it.” John laughed suddenly, shaking his head, and grinned at John.

 

“Oh my god, you weren't kidding about it being your first game, were you?” Alex shook his head, pleased that this was apparently the correct answer, because John laughed again. “You're so fucking _cute,_ ya know that?”

 

Alex opened his mouth to reply but the words died in his throat when he noticed John was leaning, not quite closing the distance between them, as if asking Alex’s permission. _This can't be fucking real._ Alex forced himself to stop thinking and tilted his head up slightly, letting his eyes slid closed. He felt John shift closer, about to close the distance between them, when the screen door scraped open and Alex jolted, John jumping backwards and into his original seat before Alex had time to process what had almost just happened.

 

“Hey there.” It was a now very inebriated Laf, smirking wickedly, gripping the doorway for balance and looking at them. “I come back to ask John for a light, and find you both half naked.” Alex blushed brightly and John scowled.

 

“In my back pocket Laf.” He growled, pointing to his jeans, and the man sauntered over, clearly taking his time, and plucked out a little yellow lighter.

 

“I'll bring this back.” He purred and John rolled his eyes.

 

“Keep it.” He said, glaring at Laf, and the man laughed and paused in the doorway, winking at Alex.

 

“Have fun boys.” He closed the door behind him and John rolled his eyes, looking apologetically at Alex.

 

“I'm sorry about that.” He said softly, but the entire exchange had set Alex on edge once again. Laf had looked so knowing….was John playing some trick on him? That was much easier to believe than the idea that the jock was actually attracted to him.

 

“It's fine. But I really should go.” He mumbled, moving to stand, and John gently caught his wrist, suddenly at his side once again.

 

“Why?” He whispered and _oh_ , did he have to look so fucking hurt? John's gaze broke Alex’s resolve and doubts entirely, and he sat back down fast.

 

“I just….you seem drunk.” He shrugged and John laughed, the hand on Alex’s wrist shifting down so their fingers were intertwined.

 

“I'm not.” He promised, signature smirk having returned. “I had like, one drink.”

 

Alex felt dizzy at the way John’s thumb was rubbing little circles on the back of his hand, feeling his touch like electricity even under the water.

 

“Are you flirting with me?” Alex managed to squeak out, looking at John. “Because I really can't tell.” John laughed again, shaking his head like Alex was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

 

“Alex I just tried to kiss you. _Yes_ , I'm flirting with you.” He used their interlocked hands to pull Alex closer, the smaller back biting back a gasp as both now stood in the center of the jacuzzi, nearly chest to chest. “I've been flirting with you all semester.” This time, John didn't wait for someone to come interrupt them.

 

The jock leaned down and pressed his lips to Alex’s, his free hand immediately moving to cradle Alex’s face, and the shorter boy melted into his touch. John tasted like chlorine and cigarettes and faintly of beer and Alex had never felt more alive than he did in this moment, making out with his crush in a jacuzzi at midnight.

 

It was John who finally broke away, both boys breathing hard, and he pressed their foreheads together, eyes still closed.

 

“I've been flirting with you all semester too.” Alex said softly and John shook with laughter, Alex opening his eyes to find himself gazing into the boy’s.

 

“Oh, in your little Alex way?” John teased, sliding an arm around his waist and Alex couldn't breath. The motion felt so claiming, and his heart thumped wildly. “Was you almost burning down the building your way of asking me out?”

 

“Shut up.” Alex shoved him playfully and, looking at John and feeling a little bold, suddenly pulled him back down for another quick kiss. “How was I supposed to know that the hot jock was gay and interested? I would've put the moves on.”

 

“Oh.” John snorted, looking slightly flustered. “The _moves_. Sounds good.”

 

“You couldn't even _handle_ the moves.” Alex teased and John smirked at him, eyes flashing fondly.

 

“Hit me with em Hamilton.” Alex smirked and cleared his threat dramatically before turning and wiggling his eyebrows at John.

 

“Hey.” He said in a pseudo deep voice and John lost it, laughing so hard he had to sit back down.

 

“You're right,” He said, giggling between words. “I couldn't handle the moves.” He motioned to the space next to him and Alex, suddenly feeling shy again, moved to sit next to him. John slung an arm around his shoulders, tugging him to his side.

 

“So.” Alex said shyly, blushing hard once again. _Fuck what now? Is it gonna be awkward in class? Is this like a one time deal? Does he wanna go on a date? Does he wanna just makeout at parties? Fuck, what are we?_

 

“So.” John repeated, sounding pleased with himself. “I should probably get your phone number before either of us leaves. Considering I still don't have it.”

 

“Why?” Alex teased, burying his anxieties, tone playful once again. “Afraid some other boy will kiss me at a party?”

 

“Damn, I better hurry and claim you then.” John teased, Alex practically on cloud nine. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

 

“Tomorrow?” Alex echoed, his brows furrowing together. _Probably would've studied all day or gone to the Schuyler’s, help them practice for auditions._ “Uh, nothing that's set in stone.”

 

“Great.” John's smile was downright charming. “I'll take you out. What is it straight people do for dates in this cowtown?” Alex smirked.

 

“They steal their dad's pickup truck and do donuts in parking lots.”

 

“Then we are absolutely doing that.” John nodded sincerely and Alex laughed, looking up at him.

 

“I'm pretty sure that's just boys’ excuse to get girls alone in the backseat of a car. Hence the high pregnancy rate.” Alex teased and now it was John's turn to smirk.

 

“Who says I'm not just trying to geat you alone in my backseat?” He teased and, before the flustered Alex could response to or even process the implications of that, John kissed him again.

 

_God, I could get used to getting kissed by John Laurens._

 

“Hey Laurens!” A drunk voice called and John pulled back but didn't go far, not looking away from Alex as he called out a response.

 

“What Herc?” He snapped, lazily winking at Alex.

 

“Can we come in there with you?” John finally looked away, startled.

 

“What?” He asked but it was too late, Laf and Herc, both now stripped to their boxers, gracelessly jumped in and crowded around the two, slinging arms around necks and Alex found himself face to face with Laf’s tequila breath.

 

“Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt pool sex.” Laf announced drunkenly, and Alex had never felt quite so embarrassed in his life. _Oh god, his friends think I'm easy. Does John hook up with boys often? What am I doing?_

 

“Shut the fuck up.” John, cheeks bright pink, reached across Alex to whack Lafayette in the back of the head. “We aren't you and Herc.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Alex looked between them incredulously and, when all three laughed, he felt completely out of his depth. “Are you all gay or something?” He worried about coming off rude a second after the words fell from his lips, but the others didn't seem to mind.

 

“Herc is. I'm….homoflexible.” Lafayette gave Alex a slow wink and all three were laughing again.

 

They were saying words Alex couldn't hear, the world muffled around him, and he suddenly found it hard to breath. Was the jacuzzi shrinking? Had they always been so close, so loud?

 

“If we weren't interrupting, we could always join.” Laf’s tone was teasing, nudging Alex playfully.

 

“Three jocks, one mathlete.” Herc’s deep voice added, Laf cackling like it was the joke of the century.

 

“I'm sorry,” He snapped suddenly, voice cutting over them like a blade. “But are you all fucking with me?” He wasn't smiling, and the laughter suddenly died.

 

“Huh?” Herc gave him a strange look and Alex went on, gasping for breath between words.

 

“Is this some kind of prank? Oh god, is this one of those YouTube things? You're fucking with me and next you're gonna tie me to a tree in my underwear or something. Oh god.” Alex felt like he must be hyperventilating, and he was too busy staring down at the water to notice the looks the others exchanged.

 

“Get out.” He heard John hiss and for a horrible moment, Alex was certain the jock was talking to him. But when he looked up, slightly terrified, John was glaring at his two friends. “You guys are giving him some kind of fucking panic attack, go away.”

 

Alex barely noticed the two stagger out of the water, using one another for balance. His mind was racing, short circuiting. He liked outcomes he could predict, he liked imputing certain variables and always getting the same result. This was uncharted territory.

 

“Hey, Alex.” Alex felt John’s hand on his face and jerked away, the hurt look in the jock’s eyes grounding him slightly. “Are you okay?”

 

“No.” Alex managed to choke out. “What is this? Am I really supposed to believe that _you_ want anything to do with _me_?” John was at the top of the social pyramid and Alex….he wasn't necessarily uncool, nor was he widely liked. He was just a nobody, plain and simple. People would look back through their yearbooks twenty years later and not be able to place him in a single one of their classes.

 

“Whoa, Alex.” John reached for him then seemed to think twice, his hand suspended momentarily in the space between them before pulling back. “I like you, okay? I….I'm sorry if I was somehow unclear about that.” To his credit, John looked very bashful but he didn't break eye contact.

 

“Really?” Alex asked skeptically. “You didn't kiss me to win some kind of sick bet?”

 

“Holy shit.” John breathed, running his hand through his hair, eyes wide but full of only sympathy. Alex didn't know what to make of that. “Alex, I've had a thing for you all semester. Honest. I fucking _hate_ chemistry. But I look forward to it literally every day. I asked you to come watch the game because...I dunno.” He shrugged shyly. “I thought I could score some badass touchdown and you'd be into me. I don't want to hurt you or anything. I just wanna get to know you.”

 

If Alex hadn't already been head over heels for John, the little speech would've stolen his heart. He relaxed and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

 

“Sorry I freaked out on you. I….sorry.” How could he explain without scaring John off? _Sorry I'm just high strung and paranoid with an anxiety disorder, nothing to worry about._

 

“No it's….don't apologize.” He said gently. Everything about John was gentle. “I shouldn't have just….assumed you were interested.” Alex looked up sharply. “But I swear, I'm not some heartless jock or anything.”

 

“I am interested.” Alex whispered fast, and they locked eyes.

 

“Yeah?” John asked slowly and Alex nodded fast.

 

“Yeah. I just get a little….panicky sometimes. Is that okay?”

 

“It's okay.” John agreed, clearly fighting back a smile. “I can work with panicky. Does that mean we’re still on for tomorrow night?”

 

“Doing donuts in your car?” Alex raised an eyebrow and John laughed, ducking his head.

 

“Nah. We can go out and eat. I've got a Bubba Gump’s gift card.” Alex grinned despite himself, wanting to memorize exactly how this moment felt.

 

“I'm not too lame for you or anything?” Alex asked lightly, the words joking, but wanting to give John one last chance for an out. The boy tilted his head.

 

“You kidding? I get to go on a date with the guy who told off Seabury in the senior quad. If anything you're too cool for me.” Alex laughed, he'd forgotten about that, and smirked slightly.

 

“That was like, Freshman year Laurens. Been stalking me?” John blushed and a comfortable silence ensued, one that made Alex feel as at ease as he did sitting beside John in chemistry, the boy making him little comics.

 

“Can I kiss you again?” John asked after a moment,  Alex finding him unbearably endearing in that moment, and he simply nodded.

 

“Yeah, I don't think that would be an issue.” He teased, smirking a little, and John laughed as he closed the distance between them.

 

Alex knew he wouldn't sleep at all that night, the jock running non stop through his mind.

 

_When I tell the Schuylers about this they're gonna flip the fuck out._

 

He slid his arms around John’s broad shoulders, good naturedly deciding to pretend he didn't notice Lafayette and Hercules at the screen door, whispering and giggling.

 


	3. I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You](https://youtu.be/qjmJ-3W7Z7Q) by Black Kids, there's a lyric video for ya!

 

 _He don't suspect a thing,_  
_I wish he'd get a clue_  


Alex hated these public, superficial little galas his friends constantly dragged him to. He felt like a little glass animal in a menagerie under the stares of these older, rich people who had probably all voted for Reagan a million years ago. He was here as some pretty little trinket, yet treated fragile, and not worthy of the quote unquote "big kids" table.  
  
"I don't see why the lowly speechwriter has to be here on his one day off." Alex complained under his breath to the man standing next to him, looking as at ease in a dapper suit as he did behind a sewing machine.  
  
"Just enjoy the free champagne Alex." Herc scolded without letting his charming grin slip, nodding to an elderly couple passing by. "Try networking instead of scowling in the corner."  
  
"I am networking. I kissed the ass of the Andersons, politely reminded them how much Washington appreciates their support and hopes to continue his campaign with them behind him. Aka, keep giving us your money or the Republicans will have the House majority yet fucking again."  
  
He glanced at Herc, proud of the way the mans shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, and he stole a glass of clear and sparkling liquid from a tray just as a murmur broke out near the front of the ballroom.  
  
"The belle of the ball." Herc joked but Alex wasn't listening any more. In fact, the room around him had seemed to dull to a faint hum. White noise.  
  
The big shin dig was a retirement party for the man of the hour, Senator Henry Laurens, but it was not his entrance causing the unanimous eyebrow lifts around the room. It was his son. His beautiful, devilish son with a reputation for a wild streak that the media devoured with a spoon.  
  
John Laurens.  
  
Better known to the two men watching the infamous man descend the staircase (Always did have a flair for the dramatic, the speechwriter thought, chugging his glass in a quick gulp) as Alex's ex.  
  
"I'm sorry." Herc gasped, voice full of a sympathy that made Alex tense. "He was supposed to be in Peru." He flew back two nights ago. Really Herc, keep up.  
  
"You couldn't have known." Alex replied smoothly, watching as the dark and handsome man on the youngest Laurens' arm whispered something in his ear, causing the man to laugh wickedly, as if the room was empty save the two of them.  
  
Alex felt his stomach twist in a gnarled, furious knot. He was so busy gripping his champagne glass, fighting the swell of anger telling him to shatter it in his bare hand, that he failed to notice Laurens catch sight of them and make his way through the crowd. Alex didn't notice the smirk approaching until it was directly in front of him.  
  
"Mr. Hamilton." John said in that cool, polite voice a senator's son needed to perfect. As if this same man hadn't made headlines a few weeks prior for punching one of his father's colleagues square in the jaw. _Although Lee did deserve it, homophobic bastard._

  
"Mr. Laurens." Alex's voice was a purr, already quite enjoying this little game they were playing, when a softly accented voice snapped him rudely back to reality.  
  
"One of your friends, _mon coeur_ ?" The man at John's side asked, batting his eyelashes innocent, and Alex had to bite the inside of his cheek at the doting way John looked at him. They're the same height. Of course this asshole is the same height as him.  
  
"Alex, Hercules. This is my boyfriend, the Marquis de Lafayette."

“I know you.” The Marquis said brightly as he shook Herc’s hand. Alex was amused by how clearly conflicted Herc was, struggling between his manners and his loyalty to Alex. “You designed that dress Solange wore at the Grammys last year, didn't you?” Alex knew he had lost Herc completely when the man lit up.

 

“Yes I did! That was me!” He exclaimed breathlessly, immediately swept up in questions by the tall man as Alex caught John’s eye, the smaller man raising a questioning eyebrow.

 

 _Why did you come over here? Who are you trying to fool? Who are you trying to hurt?_ But John’s steady, almost challenging gaze held no answers.

 

 _Well_ , Alex quickly decided, _two can play at this game._ The senator's son treated life like his own little chess game, everyone just a helpless pawn to his wiles and amusement. Alex would gamble anything to bet that John wouldn't enjoy it if the tables were turned.

 

“Mr. Marquis,” Alex’s words gently pried him from conversation with Herc and the man gave him a warm look.

 

“Please, call me Lafayette.”

 

“Lafayette then.” He said sweetly, head tilted in an almost condescending manner. “How long have you and John here been together?”

 

Lafayette missed the danger in Alex’s words, glancing at his boy as he leaned in to his chest fondly, but Laurens did not, giving Alex a warning look.

 

“Oh, about nine months now. Right, _mon petit chou?_ ”

 

“If not longer.” John replied with the same sickening sweetness, eyes never leaving Alex’s until he ducked his head to plant a small but lingering kiss on the lips of the Marquis.

 

A small gasp escaped several occupants of the room, those not polite or subtle enough to have been pretending not to be spying, and Alex quietly hated them all. He hated them for throwing this ridiculous party, he hated senator Laurens for being an uptight shit who only refrained from disowning his son to maintain his image, and he hated everyone who had gasped for thinking John kissing the Marquis publicly was just another one of his little stunts.

 

It wasn't a stunt. It was intended to hurt Alex and Alex alone.

 

“Hey,” Herc’s hand on Alex’s arm grounded him, which he was eternally grateful for. “I think we actually forgot to say hello to the Mannings.” But John had taken it too far, and Alex couldn't walk away without retaliating.

 

“Yeah, we should go. But hey,” Alex’s eyes flashed as he looked at Lafayette, the two appropriately not attached at the mouth any longer, and he smiled. “We should all hang out later, catch up. Unless anybody here has other plans?” He asked innocently and John’s glare had enough heat to light a forest ablaze. Alex felt downright giddy under it.

 

“Oh, that would be lovely.” Laf said regretfully, patting John’s chest with his dainty little fingers. “But John has to go home immediately after this, I'm afraid. Big meeting in the morning for his firm, he needs his sleep.” Lafayette was the picture of pride, which might have repulsed Alex had he been looking at him.

 

But he was looking at John. A smirk tugged at his own lips while a scowl tugged at the other boy’s, looking unfairly handsome in his suit, which had to have been tailor made just for him.

 

“Does he now?” Alex asked slowly and John laughed, the sound quick and forced to the confusion of the two men beside either boy, and he wrapped his arm around the Marquis’ shoulder.

 

“Unfortunately I do. Now if you'll excuse us, father would never forgive me for forgetting to make rounds.” _That man will never forgive you period._ He winked and wisked Lafayette away, the goodbyes hasty and distant.

 

“Does it still hurt?” Herc asked gently once the two were far out of earshot, and Alex smiled, the motion only slightly tinged with bitterness. “I mean, I know it was two years ago but you thought he was the one and-”

 

“Herc.” Alex looked at his friend, grateful that the man took the hint and shut up. “Believe me when I say, I am one hundred percent over John Laurens.”

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck was that tonight?” Alex hissed but the venom of earlier was completely gone, a couple glasses of champagne having evaporated his anger and inhibitions alike. He always tried to talk himself out of coming, and he always failed.

 

“Me?” John’s long legs were crossed at the ankles where he sat at the edge of the bed, loosening his tie and smirking in the same manner Alex imagined the devil had before persuading the angels of Heaven to leave paradise with him. _I'd jump to hell for a face like that. Well, maybe I already have._ “You're the one nearly blowing our cover, puffing your chest in front of my boyfriend, sniffing around whether or not I had plans later. What did you hope to accomplish?”

 

“You said I didn't have to meet him.” Alex snapped, voice slightly hoarse, and John's face softened, the man already moving to stand. “No, don't touch me.” Alex protested grouchily, but he met the other man’s eyes and it was over.

 

John crossed the room in a couple of strides and suddenly his hands were on Alex’s face, his mouth on Alex’s mouth. And when the taller, wicked man traced his tongue along Alex’s bottom lip, silently asking permission, Alex opened his mouth into the kiss without a hint of hesitation.

 

After several moments, Alex completely losing track of time, John pulled back and Alex’s lips instinctively chased his, the shorter man completely breathless. John chuckled lowly, looking pleased with himself, and Alex rolled his eyes.

 

“We always end up here, don't we?” Alex intended the words to be teasing and light but they didn't quite land, his tone sounding pained instead.

 

John hummed in response, ducking his head to plant a soft trail of kisses down Alex’s neck, hands sliding down to pull him closer by the hips. Alex closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly to give John more room, but found he couldn't stay silent for long.

 

“I didn't know you would be there tonight.” He mumbled, John’s kisses growing more heated, the man slowly sucking on the skin where Alex’s neck met his jaw and the speechwriter inhaled sharply. _That asshole’s leaving me a hickey._ “I didn't know you would be with _him_ right before coming to see me.”

 

“It's not the first time I've been with Laf before seeing you, and you know it.” John replied emotionlessly without looking up, a hand starting to undo the buttons on Alex’s shirt and his lips following the progress.

 

Alex wanted to lean back against the wall and just let John ravish him, let him kiss away every tense and jealous muscle in Alex’s body. It was tempting, but occasionally his grief outweighed his desire.

 

“When?” Alex asked, forcing his voice to be neutral, but his clenched fists gave him away. “When was the last time you slept with him?” _Because you were sleeping in my arms, dearest Laurens, the night you flew back into New York. So whose bed have you been keeping warm these past two days?_

 

“Alex.” John sounded more annoyed than sympathetic, probably tired of schmoozing all night and not in the mood for this dance Alex always put his through. _Why prod him when it always ends the same, Alex? You always cave._ “It doesn't matter.” He tugged off Alex’s blazer and shirt and let them fall gracelessly to the floor, pushing him back against the wall a little roughly. “You're with me now.”

 

He reunited their lips, the kiss deep and possessive, and Alex almost let himself sink into it. Then he remembered watching Laurens kiss the Marquis, a couple feet away from Alex. The smug bastard knew he could get away with it. He could kiss his boyfriend in front of his…. _dirty mistress,_ Alex’s mind cruelly provided. _He can parade Lafayette right in front of me and not even worry about me ratting him out. Does he really think the sex is that good?_ **_Is_ ** _the sex good enough to endure that kind of humiliation?_

 

John's kiss was hot and slow, just how they both knew Alex liked it, but it wasn't enough. Alex gently pushed him away, breathing hard, and shook his head.

 

“No. Fuck it, I don't want to do this anymore John.”

 

It wasn't the first time Alex had made such a threat, however it wasn't one he pulled out often nor was it ingenuine. Whenever he expressed such a sentiment, he fully meant it. He was tired of being loved in the dark, of having to stand by and bite his tongue while another boy danced with his Laurens.

 

And every time he uttered such a statement, the effect was immediate and irresistible.

 

“ _Mi corazon.”_ John murmured and pulled Alexander close, holding the man to his chest and resting his chin on the top of his head, suddenly perfectly gentle and sincere as he rubbed small circles onto his bare back. “If you want to stop, we can stop.”

 

“Tell me I'm better than him.” Alex insisted, voice almost a growl. “That you need me.” _That you need my body._

 

“Nobody loves me like you do, Alexander.” He said slowly, rocking him slightly. “I love Laf but _fuck_...nobody can make me moan like you Alex.”

 

The reminder that Lafayette existed-that Lafayette existed and John _loved_ him-made Alex flinch sharply. John's compliments could be backhanded that way sometimes, honey coated barbed wire. Enough to keep Alex in his arms but not close enough that Alex might do something stupid, like come clean about their little affair.

 

The words exchanged between them varied, but the sentiment was always the same. _Oh Lafayette is great but it's you who knows how to love me Alex._ There was room for improvisation, but when the curtains rose the end result was always the same.

 

But tonight, Alex felt himself going off script.

 

“I want you to break up with him.” He whispered, feeling John’s body immediately go stiff with alarm. “Be with me.” _I'm tired of scraps._

 

“Alex,” The tenderness was gone, and back was the cold Laurens the rest of the world was familiar with. “We dated, remember? And _you_ dumped me.”

 

“Yeah, and I've fucking apoligized.” Alex pulled back to glare at him, their arms still around one another, like reluctant dance partners. “How long are you gonna punish me for?”

 

“Punish you?” John laughed harshly, eyes like ice. “Me _moving on_ with my life isn't a punishment towards you. Grow up Alex, I found someone else.”

 

“Then why-” Alex hissed, only goaded on by how John managed to remain so collected. “-are you still calling me at god knows when in the morning?”

 

“Why are you still picking up?” John replied simply and Alex finally broke away from him, releasing a frustrated little groan. John laughed again, this time a fond sound. Like Alex was an adorable child throwing a tantrum, too cute to stay mad at. “If you expect me to do the hard part for you and stop asking you to come over, sorry Alex. You can always say no.” He moved to sit on the bed again as he spoke, shrugging as if he didn't care either way. “I don't force you here.”

 

“You know how I feel about you.” Alex grumbled, now facing out the window on the opposite side of the room. _Must be nice to be a pretty rich boy with a penthouse and this gorgeous view of the city._ The view alone was enough to keep him coming back.

 

He felt more than heard John cross the room to him, and when two strong hands rested on his shoulder, he immediately leaned back against the taller man’s chest.

 

“Alex.” John whispered, the rest of the question-no, the _plea_ -not needing to be spoken.

 

Alex didn't reply, biting his lip and keeping his gaze locked on the twinkling lights below him, begging himself for some fucking willpower. _This is time you can't get back, you know. You could've spent these eight months finding a boyfriend who doesn't have another boyfriend._

 

“ _Alex._ ” John repeated, lips ghosting over Alex’s ear, and the war was lost sooner than it had began.

 

Alex turned around and leaned up on his toes, arms sliding around John’s neck as he pressed their lips together in a feathery kiss, pulling back almost immediately to glare into John’s eyes.

 

“Fine.” He said, shivering slightly as John’s hands were immediately on him, roaming his bare skin with familiarity. “But don't expect me to play nice if you make me talk to _him_ again.” John laughed, the sound private and captivated.

 

“Wouldn't dream of it, _mi corazon_.” He kissed his cheek with almost mocking sweetness before picking Alex up by the thighs swiftly, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man, and carried him away from the window and the gorgeous view and to the bed.


	4. Off to the Races

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is [Off to the Races](https://youtu.be/MEMVEfIx8B0) by Lana Del Ray!
> 
> This one is Washette and was requested on [my tumblr!](http://angstyqueerfeminist.tumblr.com/) Enjoy!

_ Light of your life _

_ Fire of your loins _

_ Tell me you own me _

_ Give me them coins _

 

Lafayette adored being surrounded by lovely and glimmering things, and always had.

 

All throughout his childhood, he had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle. To being pampered and doted on, to silks against his skin, to sipping wine in a warm patch of sunlight without a care in the world. 

 

And he knew he was spoiled but, really, certain beautiful creatures were meant to be. Laf often thought of himself as an exotic bird, beautifully colored, given treats to sing a song. He was happy to play the part, relinquishing small freedoms for the prince like treatment.

 

When he was eighteen and his parents had disinherited him, wanting to teach their reckless and selfish son some common sense, his world had come crashing down around him.

 

He'd come to America, the land of opportunity, to taste what a new country could offer him. And, while he missed his luxuries, he wasn't going to dirty his smooth hands with work, nor break a sweat to put food on the table. Labor, he had long ago decided with a sneer, was for the common man.

 

And Lafayette was anything but common.

 

His parents succeed with their cruel lesson, in a way. For, refusing to work and refusing to look into the future beyond what the next hour held, he had quickly burned through the little money his parents had gifted him for the journey. And, when they softly but sternly refused to send more, he found himself on the streets.

 

Once the money ran dry, suddenly so did the “friendships” he had loosely cultivated in the states with the elite partygoers of New York. Trust fund children who did coke lines in the bathroom and lied to the therapists their fathers paid for-Laf’s exact crowd. Without the funding to keep up with the futures of Wall Street, he was, for the first time in his life, utterly alone.

 

Lafayette was unconcerned, however, as he knew he could charm his way out of such a situation. Sell a couple heirlooms when he had the rest of his stuff shipped over. Tonight his plan was to go to some local gay bar, find an unattractive man, and get him to invite Laf back to his place, easier than a hotel.  _ Ugly people make love better anyway. They over compensate. _

 

As he was walking, romanticizing the beauty of the streetlights in the murky puddles (as he somehow found the beauty in everything), a beat up car had started rolling along next to him.

 

Laf had never learned fear, never had reason to, but he still glared at the driver in annoyance.  _ Yes, I am beautiful. Take a picture, it will last longer. _

 

“Hey, how much for a blow job?” The guy had called out hoarsely and Laf stopped cold, thinking he was joking and feeling his fists clenched when the man's face remained serious, maybe a little desperate.

 

“Do I  _ look _ like some common  _ whore _ ?” He had hissed incredulously, motioning down to his suit. “My cufflinks are worth more than the cost of your life,  _ vermine dégoûtante _ .”

 

Laf had stalked off, proudly not even glancing back, his metaphorical feathers ruffled.

 

But the exchange had given him a less crude idea...something that appealed to multiple aspects of his curiosity.

 

Later that night, after the actually pretty average looking guy Laf went home with had fallen asleep, Laf snuck off into his bathroom to take a few coy, teasing pictures and made an account on a website that catered towards people willing to pay large sums of money for those who played the right part.  _ If I play my cards right, everything can go back to the way it's supposed to be. _ That was his brightest hope for the profile he created. The way it was supposed to be was, of course, Lafayette having his every whim catered too.  _ I'm eighteen, I'm pretty. I can kiss some old man’s ass if he treats me like the stars.  _ However, Laf wasn’t really expecting anything to come of it.

 

But here he was now, sprawled out sensually on a velvet chaise, positioned right by the window as he liked. Lafayette, quite feline in his habits, enjoyed sunbathing immensely. He had a light blue silk robe wrapped loosely around him, head tilted back, savoring the contrast of the cool fabric and the warmth of the sky. A glass of white, sparkling wine sat on the hardwood floor beside him, his finger circling the rim of it absently, and he lazily contemplated having another sip. That meant sitting up, of course, and he just couldn't be bothered. 

 

“Gilbert.” A voice deep yet impossible soft called and Laf smirked, forgetting his dilemma and sitting up immediately.

 

He'd gotten a private email a day after making the account, from a man in no uncertain terms explaining how very interested he was, but also what particular arrangements he sought out. Laf had originally scoffed at the boldness of this older, albeit incredibly attractive man, thinking his offer too good to be true. The man wanted Laf to live with him, full time, and Laf wasn't naive enough to assume that it was even remotely safe.  _ I may be a bit trusting, but I won't risk getting murdered or locked up in some fetish basement. _

 

But the man, George, had asked for Laf’s bank account number to prove just how serious he was.

 

And when Lafayette woke up to ten thousand dollars in his checking account, slightly more than his monthly allowance back in France, the decision had been practically made for him.

 

“ _ Mon amour _ , you are home.” Laf breathed, intentionally making his accent thicker the way George liked, and fluttered his eyelashes, the drowsiness in his movements as he stretched out a hand towards the man being the only sincere aspect of the display.

 

George walked over slowly and took Laf’s soft hand in one of his own rough ones, Laf shivering slightly, very familiar with the feel of those strong hands on him. George lifted the hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on each of his knuckles, gaze never leaving Lafayette’s face.

 

“Did you miss me?” Laf nodded, throat a little dry.

 

“I miss you when you are a room away.” He mumbled, knowing he might be laying it on a little thick, but the sentiment wasn't entirely ingenuine.

 

Once Laf had triple checked his bank account to ensure it wasn't some kind of mistake and emailed George back, arranging a meeting time, he had confronted the idea that he might be out of his depth. 

 

He knew he needed some help, some advice, especially considering he’d spent a couple months in America without any real friendships.

 

Using the same website he’d found George (or rather, where George had found him), Laf used his full charm to befriend another member of the site, someone who’d been in the game a little longer.

 

“So, you wanna be a sugar baby, huh?” The man who introduced himself as Alexander practically chugged the coffee Laf had bought him, lips upturned in an attractive little smirk. He was only a couple years older than Laf, but apparently had been schmoozing men and women alike since he was sixteen, and agreed to take Laf under his wing.

 

“First thing you have to understand,” Alex had explained, gaze suddenly serious. “Is that none of it is real. Think of it as an acting gig. You have to be convincing enough that they forget they're paying you, but you can't forget it yourself.”

 

“Please.” Laf had rolled his eyes, vaguely insulted, and Alex snapped in his face.

 

“Hey, I'm not talking to hear the sound of my voice. You don't know how many great ones I've seen get too caught up in it. These men are paying for a  _ product,  _ Laf. And with the kind of money you'll have thrown at you...you want to make sure you're offering something they can't get anywhere else.” 

 

Laf nodded, deciding he needed to at least try a little humility and take Alex seriously. The man clearly knew what he was doing, as the current man he  _ belonged  _ to was the son of a senator, rarely enough someone Alex’s own age. 

 

Alex had coached him through things to say, how to move, where to touch and when. He made Lafayette feel as thought he had known nothing about seduction prior to that five hour coffee meeting, and he’d left with his head swimming. It was all a game, an art. You asked them questions about themselves but never offered information about you. You wanted them always hungry for more, always feeling as though there was some aspect of your life they didn't understand.

 

“It's a lot of money,” Alex had acquiesced, reading through the emails exchanged thus far between George and Laf. “But I don't trust live ins. Not for your first go. My advice? Tell him to wait a couple of months. Get someone you don't find attractive to practice on, it'll help your acting. But don't start with this handsome man who wants you to practically be his housewife. You'll be royally fucked within the first month, trust me.”

 

Sometimes, Lafayette wondered where he would be if he had listened.

 

“Well,” George’s smile was small but fond, tired lines on his forehead that Laf reached up immediately to smooth away. “I'm here now.”

 

“That you are.” He said softly and had to tilt his head back when George leaned down to kiss him, deep and possessive and sending electric chills down Laf’s spine.

 

Almost immediately, one of George’s hands reached to cup Laf’s neck, the younger man shivering as George’s thumb traced just under his jaw where his pulse ran, pounding rapidly under his touch.

 

Lafayette had considered himself equal parts romantic and logical, which was quite the romanticized view of himself. In reality, the boy was acute enough to make insightful observations of his behavior and thoughts, incredibly self aware for his age. But he was not wise enough yet to do anything with this information, often ignoring what was clearly best for him.

 

He knew it was deeply impractical to catch feelings for the man  _ paying him _ for sex and companionship-really, anybody with common sense could make that analysis. But Lafayette was eighteen years old, easily pliable despite thinking himself a great manipulator, and he had never loved anything in life save himself. 

 

George broke their embrace, Laf whimpering in protest, but it was short lived, the older man simply moving around the chaise to join Laf upon it. He sat down and patted his knees, Laf obediently crawling into George’s lap and kissing the older man again hungrily, hands cupping his face. But George slowed their kiss immediately, easily taking control, so that the motions of their lips were slow and sensual rather than rushed and burning. He liked things a very particular way, but thankfully seemed to allow a learning curve for Lafayette.

 

The first night they had met, Lafayette had been standing in the doorway, poised to knock, and experiencing an emotion that twisted unfamiliarly into his gut. 

 

Uncertainty.

 

Typically, Laf had no time to feel regret, because he simply did not care about repercussions. He lived entirely in the here and now, and was unafraid of death or any worldly consequence that might touch him. Home in France, he had often climbed behind the wheel of one of his luxury cars too drunk to even walk, no regard for his life nor his passengers. He had chased prescription pills with hard liquor, he’d had unprotected sex with strangers in bathroom stalls, he’d shoplifted when he had more than enough funds to actually purchase the items. He just enjoyed the thrill of running from mall security. 

 

Lafayette was all about the thrills. But in the doorway of a rather impressive little manor, Lafayette felt almost nauseous with anxiety. He’d had a few vague Skype sessions with the man, at Alex’s recommendation, but just enough talking and flirting to learn his face and decide he was trustworthy enough to go through with it. But perhaps this was a mistake, and he needed to heed Alexander’s original advice. Lafayette had never done something like this before, he didn't have practice when it came to encapsulating somebody’s perfect fantasy. This man, this  _ stranger,  _ was paying to practically own his soul. And if Lafayette hated anything, it was being rooted to one place. 

 

But, before even knocking, the door had been opened to reveal a tall and imposing man, dressed in a deep red dress shirt that hugged his form impressively. Laf had honest to god gulped before remembering himself, remembering that he was a  _ product, _ and flashing his most charming smile.

 

“ _ Bonjour,  _ you must be Mr. Washington.” It was a foolish thing to say, as Laf knew good and well exactly who he was, but the man smiled with soft amusement.

 

“George.” He had corrected gently, his eyes warm as he stepped aside and motioned for Laf to come in. “And you must be Gilbert.”

 

Lafayette crossed the doorway, feeling that the moment was very symbolic, and the door closed behind him and his bags.

 

“Leave those here. Rose will bring them to your room.” Laf nodded and left his bags in the doorway, nervously awaiting George’s next move as his cue to follow, and was grateful when the man directed them towards the kitchen. “A glass of wine?”

 

“ _ Oui.  _ Thank you...George.” Lafayette tested the name out and it rolled off his tongue like poetry. “I confess,” He said slowly in a practiced voice, looking at George from under his lashes as the man poured two glasses. “I have never done this before.”

 

_ “They want you innocent but experienced.”  _ Alex had explained, often speaking so rapidly that Lafayette had to have him repeat entire paragraphs of speech, jotting down messy and illegible notes.  _ “They want to feel like you've never had sex with anyone else, never given a shit about anybody but them. But you have to be the best they've ever had, at the same time. Make them feel important and masculine and shit.” _

 

He appeared to have said just the right thing, as George handed him his glass with a small quirk of a smile, eyebrows ever so slightly raised.

 

“Is that right?” He said simply, meeting Laf’s gaze with a surprising intensity. Laf had forgotten all his supposed refinery and took a deep gulp of the (obviously expensive) wine.

 

_ “Don't talk business with them.” _ Alex had advised.  _ “Don't bring up numbers and pricing until after sex, and even then. It's impersonal and they don't want to be reminded that it's all fake. Save it for over text.” _

 

_ “But the most important thing is to keep them talking. You want to learn everything about them you can and commit it to fucking memory. Bring up a week later something they mentioned about work or their favorite restaurant and they'll practically jizz their pants. These people want to feel special and desirable. Learn their ticks and habits without giving anything away about you. Stay their mysterious and attentive lover so they don't have to do any of the work. Be the perfect little starlet-not bothering them with remembering birthdays or anniversaries. Don't be a person to them, be a fantasy. Understand?” _ And Laf truly thought he had.

 

That first night, Lafayette had expected that the man would want to immediately try him out. He’d preened and moisturized and steeled himself in preparation-but they didn't have sex at all. The two had stayed up all night talking, easily going through the rest of the wine bottle, Laf barely noticing that George managed maybe a glass and a half while the younger man almost carelessly let himself get drunk.

 

And, against what little better judgement he possessed, Lafayette would later realize that he did most, if not all, of the talking. George was a fantastic listener, prodding him with nods and intrigued stares as Laf weaved together colorful tales of his party days in France, his childhood, how lonely he had felt once disinherited, and even of his dreams for the future. Being wealthy and attractive, nobody had ever cared about what Laf had to say beyond a few pleasantries. It was a new experience, somebody actually wanting to know more and more, letting Laf talk himself to sleep.

 

In one night, Laf hadn't learned a single fact about the man, yet had revealed his entire heart and soul.

 

“What did you get up to today, my Gilbert?” George asked slowly, holding Laf in his lap with a steady arm around the boy’s waist.

 

Laf wrapped his arms around George’s neck, needing a moment to breath before answering. The older man was often impossible to read, going from kissing Laf within an inch of his life to wanting to discuss the weather, or whisk the boy away to some elegant restaurant.

 

“Hmm.” Laf made a soft humming sound, gazing at the man as he traced his knuckles across his cheek, savoring the way the slightly unshaven skin was rough on his fingers. In turn, one of George’s hands slid up the robe and gently held his thigh, squeezing slightly and rubbing small circles without breaking eye contact. Laf felt dizzy from his touch, wanting to drown in his steady gaze. “I read one of the books Rose brought me. Had a little wine. I wanted to go from a swim but I thought I might wait.” His lips slipped into a slight smirk. “I know you like to watch me in the water.”

 

“You are correct.” George’s voice was slightly lower, betraying himself and making Laf’s breath catch. Being reminded that this man-this powerful, wealthy man that so many in the business world feared-desired him was intoxicating. 

 

Lafayette hummed softly and tilted his head, nuzzling his face against George’s neck and kissing softly, immediately rewarded with the hand on his thigh tightening its grip. His nose bumped along George’s neck and his lips carefully traced along the base of his throat, nibbling gently as he went, and he felt smug when he heard the man’s breath catch.

 

Sex with George hadn't been at all what Laf first expected. Alexander had made it sound like a chore, feigning interest and moans, making your client feel like the best lover you had ever had, all while they could often barely get it up. 

 

_ “Or,”  _ Alex spoke with his mouth full around a bagel, Laf privately wondering how he managed to charm so many.  _ “They pop a pill and you have to act wildly turned on for fucking  _ **_hours_ ** _. They usually aren't like, bad. Just not good.”  _ He'd smirked, obviously bragging a little.  _ “The guy I have right now is good. Real fucking good. If you stay in the game long enough, you can get lucky like me.” _

 

But Laf knew he was already lucky. The sex was  _ amazing.  _ George always took his time, something that both frustrated Laf and turned him on beyond belief. The foreplay alone lasted for hours, George taking his time mapping out Laf’s body with his tongue and hands, seemingly never growing bored of him, every patch of skin on the younger boy delicious and enticing. George enjoyed the way Laf would writhe and whine under him impatiently, no part of it an act, but would not grant him reprieve until George was satisfied. George would kiss him, slow and deep and claiming, while his hands pried apart Laf’s thighs, his fingers stretched Laf out rhythmically, all of his motions still painstakingly slow.

 

_ “Let me take care of you.”  _ Laf would whisper, Laf would  _ beg, _ and sometimes George would oblige. Sometimes the man would relinquish control and let Laf hungrily ravish him, like the horny teenager he was, feeling drunk with power when the man moaned his name.

 

But more often than not, George did things his way. No rush, no false sense of urgency. He traced Laf’s body from his ankles to his forehead, the boy panting and arching his back at the simplest of touches, weak and needy under George’s attentive care.

 

“Maybe we could go for a swim later?” Laf let his lips brush George’s ear as he asked, the man having already undone Laf’s robe. The blue cloth fell to the floor like a ripple of water, leaving Laf only in his underwear (expensive, and purchased for him by George).

 

“Maybe.” George murmured in response, palms tracing the curve of Lafayette’s back, pressing the two closer together, Laf’s breath hitching slightly with anticipation. 

 

George tilted Laf’s chin back up to meet him and they kissed, lazily, for what could have been minutes or hours. Laf had learned how to move his tongue in harmony with George’s, slow and hungry and passionate. George kissed like he wanted to devour Lafayette, and maybe the man did. He certainly spent enough time with his mouth on Laf’s body for the younger boy to believe it.

 

“Alright.” George broke the kiss and seemed amused when Laf chased him slightly, obliging him with another small peck. “A swim.”

 

“Will you get in the water with me?” Laf asked, grinning cheekily at his George. The older man often indulged him whatever he asked, very soft on the teenage boy, but today he only shook his head. 

 

“I'd prefer to watch you, Gilbert.” George traced a finger along the curve of his shoulder, standing slowly so both were on their feet, Laf having to look up to meet his gaze. 

 

It wasn't unusual for him to observe Laf swimming in his large, indoor pool. If Laf enjoyed anything more than calming laps in the water, it was being watched. He was built to be constantly admired, he believed, and George was happy to oblige. Sitting on the poolside with a glass of whiskey, laughing good naturedly at the antics Laf put on.

 

“Why don't you wear those red swimming trunks I got you?” George asked, and Laf stepped out of his embrace with a slight smirk, his eyes flashing with a mischievous light.

 

“Why don't-” Laf already turned towards the pool room. “I wear nothing at all?”

 

He skipped off towards the room and George chuckled as he followed, pausing to get himself a glass of whiskey, and stepping over the undergarments that Laf had carelessly tossed behind him. It was no matter, Rose would pick them up.

 

* * *

  
  


“You're an idiot.” Alex said simply and accurately, the two of them out to lunch at a rather high end restaurant, both easily able to afford it. 

 

“An idiot in love.” Laf sighed dramatically and was hit in the forehead squarely with a bread roll, sitting up to gape at Alex, the man shrugging unapologetically.

 

“Nope, just a fucking idiot. Lafayette, this is your first run. Sure, you've had a great year. But you are  _ not _ in love.” Laf made a mental note to ask Alex more about his senator’s son once Laf was done whining, as Alex spoke almost like he was trying to convince himself. “Some old man makes you his pet and you fall head over heels, don't delude yourself into thinking you're special.”

 

“I am special.” Laf replied hotly, chin held high as he nibbled on the bread he had been assaulted with. “George frequently assures me of this.” Alex moaned and put a hand over his forehead.

 

“I hate being the bearer of bad news Laf but-actually, that's a lie. I love it when it's people I hate. But I don't hate you. Look in the mirror Laf.” Alex’s sharp tone caught Laf’s eye. “You're eighteen, almost nineteen, and you look it. This man clearly likes them young. Likes them young and  _ wild _ , if him getting off to your weird France stories are any indication.”

 

“Don't be crude, he really cares.” Laf protested, but Alex’s words had cruelly taken root in the pit of his stomach, making themselves at home. “What are you saying Alex?” At his tone, Alex softened.

 

“I'm saying that maybe he's nice. Maybe you two have a great two years together. Three or five even, if you age slow enough. But do you think you're his first? How many do you think came before you before he traded up for the younger model?”

 

Lafayette naively shook his head, almost laughing at Alex’s words. The idea of George making love to another boy the same way he did with Laf….well, it was ridiculous. You couldn't imitate such infatuation and care, couldn't replicate that, could you?

 

“How long now have you been with your senator’s son?” Laf shot back, throat burning. “Two years? Don't you have that self imposed time limit? Maybe you're the one getting soft and comfortable.” Alex only rolled his eyes, hiding his discomfort unsuccessfully.

 

“Don't try and pick a fight, I'm trying to help you.” He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I don't want to find you in five years on some street corner because you didn't plan ahead.”

 

“Well,” Laf’s tone was teasing despite the way Alex’s words made him feel physically ill. “I could always call you. Come live with you or your Laurens.”

 

“Fuck off.” Alex laughed, both boys doing an incredibly poor job of masking their unease, considering they were essentially actors for a living.

 

* * *

 

“What is it that you do,  _ mom amour _ ?” Laf asked one night, facing George from his feather soft pillow, the older man playing with a curl of his hair, both swimming in a post orgasmic haze. “I think that you are CEO of something. But I don't know what.”

 

George chuckled indulgently, hand sweeping down the back of Laf’s neck, thumb at the base of his throat, rubbing small circles against a deep hickey that resided there.

 

“Its uncouth to talk about money, Love. I won't bore you with details.” Laf frowned at the way George so obviously danced around the subject, but was caught by the pet name.

 

“You call me Love,” He murmured, looking away from George slightly, turning his cheek into the man’s hand. “But do you?”  _ Do you love me? _

 

Almost immediately he was pulled to the man’s chest and caught in a sweet kiss, Laf sighing gratefully against George’s lips. 

 

“You know I do.” The man eventually whispered, pulling back to rest their foreheads together. “What's with this insecure pillow talk, Gil?” He asked tenderly, but Laf wasn't quite finished. He pulled away and sat up with his back to his lover, drawing the sheets around his body slightly, the high thread count soft and soothing on his skin.

 

“Am I your first?” Laf asked, not looking at George, and quickly feeling the need to blurt out the rest before he lost his nerve forever. “Sugar baby, I mean.” He said crassly, not sweeting his words as he typically did, accent slipping a little so he sounded almost American. “Am I the first man you've paid to come live in your house and let you fuck him or-”

 

He let out a muffled gasp in surprise when he was suddenly back against the mattress, those gentle, gentle hands now holding him in place firmly by the shoulders. George’s eyes were glowing angrily and in that moment, Laf had finally learned fear, his lover looming over him, pinning him beneath him.

 

“Do  _ not _ speak so crudely to me.” George hissed, not raising his voice but not needing to. The message was received loud and clear, Laf biting his lip hard so he wouldn't do something embarrassing, like cry. 

 

All at once, George seemed to register Laf’s slight tremble and pulled back immediately, eyes full of shame before he faced away from Laf, sitting up.

 

“Oh, forgive me, my love.” He said softly, and Laf took a deep shuddering breath.  _ Calm yourself Laf. He didn't hurt you, he would never hurt you. You just surprised him.  _

 

Lafayette sat up slowly and hesitantly reached out, placing a hand flat on George’s back.  _ He's not paying for you to ask questions, you aren't his suspicious girlfriend. You're a product. Products don't talk back. _

 

_ But it's different, he loves me. _

 

“Maybe I should not have asked.” Lafayette’s small voice echoed throughout the bedroom, having a much easier time speaking without having to look George in the eyes. “Maybe I deluded myself into thinking I was something special to you. More than the money.” 

 

George turned around immediately, something raw in his eyes that broke Lafayette’s heart, made the boy want to apologize without knowing what for. George took the hand Laf had extended and pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes and leaning into Laf’s touch tenderly.

 

“You are special.” He opened his eyes again as he spoke, gaze piercing Laf. “God forgive me, but you are. Ask me anything you want.” Laf blinked in surprise, and thought triumphantly of Alex.  _ You were wrong, little friend. _

 

“Am I your first?” Laf asked again, flinching a little in anticipation, but George only sighed.

 

“No.”

 

Lafayette felt the sky crash down around him but he only nodded, keeping his face a neutral mask as he waited for George to offer up more information. He did not.

 

“What number am I, then?” Laf asked with some bitterness, and George turned to kiss the inside of his palm.

 

“Only the second, my love. The first boy was….unsuccessful. I had given up but I got…lonely.” Laf scooted closer, wanting suddenly to be near the man, to remind himself that they belonged to each other.  _ No Laf, you belong to him. Not the other way around. _

 

“What is it you do?” Laf asked and George’s smile was bitter.

 

“I am not sure that you want to know, dear one. It is complex and unsafe.” If Laf had been slightly curious before, knowing he was practically frothing at the mouth at the promise of something so juicy.

 

“Tell me.” He insisted. “Let me be a part of all aspects of your life, if I am truly special.” George pressed another lingering kiss to his palm.

 

“Let's just say….I have a monopoly on the dealings of any cocaine that enters or leaves the United States, or is sold within its borders.” Lafayette blinked slowly, needing several moments to process this. All the lavish things around him were purchased with this ill gotten money? It was more than a little thrilling. “Does this frighten you?”

 

“No.” Laf replied honestly, moving closer still, directly in front of George with a hand on his chest. “It's kind of exciting.” George let out a laugh, deep and warming, and kissed Laf’s palm again without breaking eye contact.

 

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Laf asked with a tilt of his head, drunk on the idea of having power over one who had such power.

 

“Yes.” Rather than feel afraid, Lafayette felt a shiver of excitement course through him.

 

“Have you ever killed someone here? In this bedroom?” George looked deeply amused.

 

“I try and keep my business and personal life separate, Gil. I have not. Now, I have a question for you.” Laf shifted closer and into his lap, straddling the man, and nodded as he looked at him.

 

“Ask away.”

 

“Who has been filling your head with these ideas? With you worrying about me leaving you for some other boy?” George could read him like a book, and Laf averted his eyes. 

 

“No one. Just something that occurred to me.”

 

“Gilbert.” George said patiently and Laf sighed, the sense of betrayal brief before he met his lover’s gaze once again.

 

“My friend Alexander. My  _ only _ friend.” He emphasized, gaze pleading, and George nodded.

 

“Maybe we don't see this friend again then, hm?”

 

“A-alright.” Laf felt slightly hollowed at the loss, but he did not grow attached particularly easily anyway.  _ I will miss you, my little lion.  _ “I have one more question for you, my George.” 

 

“Yes darling?” George had shifted them so his face was buried in Laf’s neck, breathing him in, and Laf closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.

 

“Do you love me?” George laughed lightly against his skin, already pressing Laf back into the mattress.

 

“Yes.  _ Yes. _ ” He breathed, and spent the rest of the night showing Laf just how much.

 

* * *

 

Their relationship shifted after that evening, into something Laf much preferred.

 

The money stopped appearing in Laf’s bank account, but manifested in different ways. George would buy Laf anything he desired, registered him several credit cards under George’s name. George stopped bothering to hide aspects of his work life from Lafayette, sharing with his lover the metaphorical blood on his hands, letting Laf lounge in his office when he worked from home.

 

Laf would sit in on meetings, perched on George’s lap, defiantly daring any of the man’s clients to show a hint of discomfort with Laf’s presence, or the way he would cuddle up against the powerful, lethal man. Now that he knew the truth about George and didn't mind, the man had no qualms about including Laf in his world. Laf was certain he could live off the power rush alone. Men fought to have an audience win George, literally killing to win his favor. Yet a whisper in his ear in their bed was all Laf needed, he held the ultimate sway.

 

He did, however, miss Alexander. He missed the way the man was would talk himself out of breath, pausing to take huge gulps of air, and then comically carrying on. Laf missed how Alex would wear his hair up in a messy ponytail when it was just the two of them back at his apartment, shitty and small despite Alex having the money to afford anywhere he wanted. Despite his senator’s son offering Alex a place in his own home.

 

_ “When you've been poor, you know how to spend. You know better than throwing it away on nice things.”  _ Alex would say, no judgement in his tone, despite the guilt Laf felt at his words.  _ “There's always that anxiety in the back of my head, ya know? That if I bought a nice place I would wake up one day and the money's gone.” _

 

_ I would take care of you if that happened.  _ Laf had promised himself, but didn't dare speak it out loud. Alex hated charity.

 

Laf missed the way Alex had him doubling over in laughter, the way he ate in a rush, as if uncertain when he would have the next chance to. Laf missed getting stoned and watching cable, Alex patiently listening to him go on and on about George. Laf patiently listening to Alex complain and rant about Laurens, as if the affection in his voice wasn't obvious. 

 

In short, Lafayette missed his best friend.

 

It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon when Laf and George were lounging in the garden, the tall hedges separating them from the outside, as if no two other people existed in the world. Laf was curled in his lap, drunk off sugary sweet Bacardis, the two giggling like children as Laf told George how, at Starbucks that morning, he had completely blanked on the English word for hazelnut.

 

The only sounds were the laughter of the lovers and the rush of water from the beautiful marble fountain, dead center in the garden. Laf had once spontaneously climbed into it, high on starlight and the highest quality cut of George’s product. In retrospect, he might have drowned in the shallow waters had George not been alongside him, drunk on nothing but Laf’s irresistible charm.

 

“Mr Washington.” The soft water had drowned out Rose’s footsteps approaching, and both boys gave her a reproachful look. “You have a visitor.”

 

The only people allowed within the doors of the Washington estate were carefully screened by the men Laf had grown accustomed to seeing roam the house, ignoring him as he ignored them (But if whispers of  _ plaything _ reached his ears, they would shortly reach George’s, and the offender would not be seen again). So for George to have a visitor would mean it was a person of importance, who unfortunately couldn't be ignored.

 

“I have no appointments today.” George said gruffly, rising to his feet nonetheless and helping Laf do the same, intertwining their hands as Laf pressed into his side. If Rose had any opinions on the codependent display, she expressed none.

 

“Yes, but he insists on speaking with you. It's a mister John Laurens.”

 

“The senator’s son?” Laf said, interest piqued and an old ache for Alex tugging at his sleeve. He turned to George. “I want to come.”

 

Laf didn't ask for much (as his needs were often anticipated), but when he did, George never refused him. The older man arched an eyebrow, a cross between curious and amused, but only nodded. 

 

“Alright. Please invite our guest into my office Rose, and let him know we’ll be joining him shortly.”

 

Once George changed into a more professional attire, the process slowed somewhat by Laf feelings the need to kiss him on several occasions, the two entered his private office arm in arm.

 

The man waiting inside was pacing back and forth, dress immaculately in what Laf recognized as a Mulligan suit, and he was  _ ridiculously  _ attractive. To the point where Laf had to hold his breath for a moment when the man paused in his tracks and fixed his gaze on them, long hair tucked back into a neat ponytail, a sharp contrast to Alexander.

 

“Washington.” The man ignored Laf entirely, tone clipped and almost angry, and Laf flinched slightly, pitying him. Nobody spoke to George like that. “I've been lead to believe you took something of mine. Something invaluable to me.” And now a blatant accusation. Laf steeled himself, prepared for his George to put this man in his place.

 

But George surprised Laf by only chuckling lightly, crossing the room to take a seat at his desk, the chair large enough for two, and motioned for Laurens to sit across from him. The man stepped closer but remained standing, gripping the back of the chair and glowering at Washington, something like desperation in his eyes. And suddenly Laf understood.  _ Ah, he's here to beg. _

 

“Come John, have a seat. And tell me what it is that you think I've stolen from you.” The man visibly deflated and sank into the chair, a hand reaching up to rub the worry lines out of his forehead.

 

“Not what.  _ Who _ .” Laurens corrected, voice hoarse, and he looked up at George with pleading eyes. “What did you do with him?” 

 

His words chilled Laf, who went stiff in George’s lap and looked up at his lover sharply, finding it hard to breath.  _ With who? _

 

“Is he talking about Alex?” Laf blurted before he could stop himself, and Laurens jumped to his feet.

 

“Yes, Alexander!” He slammed a fist down on the table, now looking at Laf like he was seeing him for the first time. “Do you know him? Do you know where he is?”

 

“Perhaps,” George spoke slowly, voice betraying nothing, his tone cool and careful. “It would be better if you left.” 

 

Laf realized that George was speaking to him, not Laurens, and faltered slightly. But then he thought of messy hair and sharp eyes, and raised his chin defiantly. 

 

“Perhaps I had better stay.” He retorted, eyes blazing.

 

“Look.” Laurens interrupted the stare they were locked in, tone wronged and angry and imploring all at once. “Many of my father’s allies are your clients. Politicians who turn a blind eye. I'm sure they could find a new dealer to sponsor, senators are so flighty, after all.”

 

“Are you threatening me, John?” George sounded like he was biting back laughter, and Laurens sighed deeply, hands trembling.

 

“Please.” The man choked out. “Have...have you never  _ loved _ ?” His eyes flickered to Laf and George went still, grip on the boy tightening slightly.

 

“Please?” Laf echoed, throat tight at the thought of George having done something to Alex.  _ Alex. _ The first true friend the boy had ever had in his life.

 

“Very well.” George’s tone was gruff with annoyance, and Alex swore that Laurens was about to faint from relief. “What has been taken will be returned. But not without some damage.” Both the two boys inhaled sharply at that, and George rose to his feet. “This is a kindness John, not a response to your threat. A favor on behalf on my Gilbert. But if you go around telling anyone what I've done for you, that I'm  _ soft-” _

 

“Never.” John swore, voice breaking. “Just take me to him. Take me to Alex.” 

 

Lafayette remained seated in George’s throne-like chair as the man made some phone calls, some of his men leading John away, presumably to whatever horrible place Alex and whoever else had ever wronged George were kept at. 

 

“Gil?” Once the room was clear and everything quiet again, Laf pointedly keeping his gaze fixed on the wall, he felt George kneel down beside him. “Won't you look at me?”

 

“How could you?” Lafayette struggled to keep the rage and indignance out of his voice as he fixed his lover with a burning glare, bottom lip trembling. Laf was an angry crier, which he loathed. “Alex was my friend. My only friend. I stopped talking to him for you and you…..you  _ hurt _ him.” 

 

“He was meddling in matters that had nothing to do with him.” George explained in a tone one might use to explain right and wrong to a toddler. “He put fear in your heart, and that couldn't go unpunished.” He reached for Laf’s face and Laf jerked backwards, surprising them both.

 

“You lied to me. Lied by omission.” Laf added when George started to protest, and he crossed his arms. “I….maybe I should leave.” George looked unconcerned.

 

“Do you want to leave?” He asked simply and Laf looked down, emotions battling within him, more unsure than he had ever been.

 

“I….I don't know.” He confessed softly, and this time when George reached for him, he didn't pull away. 

 

“I wouldn't stop you from leaving, if that was what you truly wished.” George said soothingly-a blatant lie. But a pretty lie, one that Laf chose to take comfort in. “But where would you go, love?”  _ Who could give you what you want better than I could? Who could love you better? _ It didn't need to be spoken.

 

“You  _ cannot _ lie to me.” Laf breathed, annoyed at the tears he had to blink away, and George caught them with his thumb, his touch gentle as ever. Hands that had killed cradling the young, young boy’s cheeks.

 

“Never again.”

 

“And I want to see Alex.” He looked at George defiantly, daring him to argue. “I want to see him whenever I want.”

 

“Very well.” George grumbled, rising to his feet, Laf following automatically. “I would prefer if you didn't bring him back here, to our home.”

 

“Alright.” Laf breathed, that familiar rush of power returning to him, making him giddy. 

 

“Forgive me?” George asked, finally revealing his heart and letting the fear creep into his gaze. Laf rushed to him, their embrace possessive and rough, mouths colliding and searching for reassurance.

 

“Always.” Laf breathed against his lips, and then couldn't help himself. “What John did for Alex, would you do it for me?” He whispered slowly. “Would you come find me if somebody stole me?” He felt George shiver against him.

 

“I would burn down cities to find you.” He swore, voice shaking with fury. “And whoever laid a hand on you would suffer for eternity.” And  _ god _ , if that didn't turn Lafayette on.

 

Rose would later come through the office and put everything back on the desk that had been swept to the floor, would wash and iron and neatly fold the clothes strewn across the room. 

 

Just as she had done for the boys before Laf, and just as she would do for the ones after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Request any song on my [tumblr](http://angstyqueerfeminist.tumblr.com) and include the pairing you'd like. Obviously I'm partial to lams but I'll do most anything
> 
> (Ships I'm not comfortable with are john laurens/any woman, incest, or pedophilia)


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